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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680200">It Does Sting A Bit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/czechTexan/pseuds/czechTexan'>czechTexan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1x08 canon divergence, 2x05, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kitchen Sex, Knife Play, Soft V just wants to feel loved, Strap-Ons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:54:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/czechTexan/pseuds/czechTexan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Eve doesn't stab Villanelle? Alternate take on 1x08.</p><p>***This is now a multi-chapter dump for my filthy ideas!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>230</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. It Does Sting A Bit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eve doesn't know quite how they ended up here. She never even intended to find Oksana in her flat. At least, that was the lie she told herself.</p><p>But somewhere between "I'm going to kill you" and and Oksana smiling out a  "that's rude" as Eve holds her at knife point, just barely stinging the tip into the flesh underneath Villanelle's sweater, Eve finds herself straddling the killer she's spent months tracking. </p><p>The knife lays discarded somewhere on Villanelle's plush, soft bedspread and Eve is kissing her for all she's worth. She wants the danger, the thrill of whatever attraction is blooming between them. And just once, Villanelle wants to bask in the safety of it. Something so unlike anything she's ever had in her life. </p><p>Time loses meaning. For all either of them knows, they've been like this for days. Just kissing and sucking. Pushing and pulling. Giving and taking until it feels like the intensity of this moment will ruin them both. </p><p>Then Villanelle is pouting with the keen sense of loss when she feels Eve's lips leave hers. She opens her eyes to look at Eve hovering above her, looking at her with what she thinks is concern. Eve strokes the injured side of her face, smiling a bit at the unasked question she sees just behind Villanelle's eyes, mingled in a hazel bottomless expanse. </p><p>"You're hurt." It's just an observation, but something about the tenderness of it brings Villanelle to burrow her face further into the warmth and comfort of Eve's hand. </p><p>"It's nothing." She deflects, but suddenly she looks small, fragile. Like she's begging not to be hurt further than she already has been. </p><p>"It's not." Eve's pushing. She doesn't even know if it's really her place to care about this woman. Nevermind that she has a husband. Still she finds herself wanting to take care of Villanelle. If only for a moment. </p><p>"Really." Villanelle insists, half-hearted. She's desperate for more of Eve's touch, but self-preservation tells her it will only end the way it always does. </p><p>"Please." Eve pushes again, tenderly thumbing at the scrapes on Villanelle's forehead. It's such a fucking irony how she's gone from threatening to stab the woman underneath her to wanting to soothe her with every fiber of her being in about five minutes. And maybe she's fucked up, but now that she's high on Villanelle, she doesn't think she can ever be sober again. </p><p>"Let me."</p><p>Villanelle worries her bottom lip between her teeth, pensive and cautious. Then for the second time that day she agrees. This time, at least for now, there are no ulterior motives. No hidden agendas. </p><p>Just an assassin and a government agent stripped of their defenses. </p><p>Just for today. </p><p>"It does sting a bit."</p><p>She whines at the loss of contact when Eve removes herself from astride Eve's lap. Then she's watching, content and amused, as Eve heads for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom as if this is her house and not Villanelle's flat. The sheer confidence of it all seems like a power move in and of itself. </p><p>There's a bit of rustling from the bathroom as Eve searches through the cabinet. Eventually, she returns with some hydrogen peroxide, cotton swabs, and bandages then stops at the foot of the bed. </p><p>She's hesitant again.</p><p>The boldness she felt earlier has begun to wear off and she finds herself questioning whether she should even be here. Let alone helping the woman who killed Bill lick her wounds. </p><p>Villanelle sees straight through her, fixing her with a lonely, wounded, vulnerable expression. It's such a contrast to the primal, seductive way she was looking at Eve only a few minutes ago that it's hard to believe this is the same woman who just had her tongue down Eve's throat. And oh God what was she going to tell Niko?</p><p>"Please, Eve...stay."</p><p>And Eve does.</p><p>The bed creaks and groans under her weight again and she lays out her pilfered medical supplies between them. </p><p>Villanelle hisses at the first touch if the peroxide soaked cotton to her scraped flesh. Then a moment later she melts blissfully into the touch.</p><p>"Sorry." Eve winces, watching the way Villanelle softens at her touch. It's like she's cleaning away the facade that is Villanelle and discovering more of Oksana beneath. She thinks back to that night in her kitchen and how she briefly managed to connect with the lonely woman behind the hardened assassin. This feels the same, except it's so much more intimate.</p><p>"You've never had anyone take care of you like this, have you?"</p><p>It's more of a statement than a question. Villanelle squirms a bit under the curious scrutiny of Eve's gaze. </p><p>"Are you trying to figure me out? I'm flattered."</p><p>Eve has prodded a bit to far and Villanelle's defenses come back up ever so slightly, keeping this one person who has some how been granted the ability to ruin her safely at bay.</p><p>"You don't have to do that, you know. You don't have to hide from me." Eve's thumb delicately traces a pattern into Villanelle's forehead and the tenderness of her words and her actions suddenly too much. </p><p>In an instant, Villanelle pounces. She needs to turn the tables and does it the only way she knows how. Eve is pinned to the downey comforter underneath her. Her eyes are wide in shock and her chest heaves deliciously against Villanelle's own. The switchblade Eve had planned to run her through with a few minutes ago now presses into Eve's neck; a taunting reminder of just how monumentally she had fucked up her judgment today. </p><p>"You promised." Eve pants. Every atom in her body is suddenly acutely aware of how little space there is between them. She longs at once to pull Villanelle across the scant distance and also to push her away and go home while she still can. </p><p>Villanelle chuckles and Eve feels it vibrate inside her own chest and feels the breath fan against her face. </p><p>"I'm not going to kill you, Eve."</p><p>"Are you going to hurt me?" Eve gulps, feeling more alive in this single moment on Villanelle's bed than she has in years. </p><p>"Do you want me to?" The switchblade doesn't quite wait for an answer and she feels the small trickle of warm, sticky blood beginning to ooze down her neck. </p><p>"Please."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I'm Expensive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A take on the kitchen scene from 2x05. Part one of 2!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Like so many of their encounters, Eve doesn't quite no how they got to this point.</p>
<p>She has no idea anymore what she'd been expecting to happen when she hired Villanelle to kill her. Alas, she's gagging over her kitchen sink and there's gleeful cackling somewhere in the background of her desperate wretching. This isn't at all what she had in mind. </p>
<p>She has time to muse that their encounters always followed this familiar pattern. Eve hardly knows why she's surprised. Time and time again she's over extended herself only to watch in shock as Villanelle wrestles the reigns of control from her fumbling hands. </p>
<p>Tonight is no different, and really, she should have known. </p>
<p>Suddenly the cackling is gone, replaced with firm but gentle hands around her middle and she's being tugged closer into Villanelle's gravitational pull. She thinks that maybe she sees Villanelle falling further into hers.</p>
<p>Who can say?</p>
<p>Their bodies are pressed closer than they've ever been as their chests heave in anticipation. The mood between them has suddenly grown intense and the air practically crackles with the electricity of it all.</p>
<p>The way the sink Digs into Eve's back throbs as deliciously as the knife that stings at her chest. It's like she's the tiger's prey, being kneaded gently with impossibly sharp claws before the inevitable comes and she is devoured.</p>
<p>"I'm expensive." </p>
<p>Eve knows this. It's a wonder she's able to voice as much with the way Villanelle's touch and the intensity in her predatory gaze has her feeling dizzy and weak in the knees. If it weren't for Villanelle's arms around her, she might dissolve into a puddle right there on her kitchen floor. </p>
<p>It's like Villanelle knows this. Her eyes trace deliciously down the landscape of Eve's body before coming back up to meet her again. Eve swallows thickly to try to force down the nervous knot in her throat. </p>
<p>"Will you give me everything I want?"</p>
<p>The question is more of a formality, at this point. They both know Eve is putty in Villanelle's hands. She's holding the marionette strings, but still she wants Eve to offer. She wants Eve to come willingly down whatever shadowed, twisty path they stand at the edge of. Neither knows where it leads, but God they want to venture down it. </p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>That shark-like grin widens immediately in response and it makes Eve consider for the briefest of seconds that maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe Villanelle will run her through with the blade before the night is over; payback for what happened in Paris. But Eve knows enough to know that Villanelle is not vindictive by nature. Actually, she perceives a remarkable capacity for forgiveness from the younger woman. Whatever is happening isn't about Paris, or even a contract, but rather, connection.</p>
<p>She feels herself relax into Villanelle's arms. The blade digging into her chest clatters to the floor, having served it's purpose. Claws aren't necessary between them now. Somehow, it feels even more intimidating being trapped against her sink like this. At least Eve knew what to do when weapons were involved. After all, how many of their exchanges now had happened at the end of a gun or a knife?</p>
<p>She lets out a shaky breath and it's like Villanelle understands. Of course she understands. No one has made Eve feel so utterly exposed and vulnerable before. There's a flicker in Villanelle's eyes just before she leans in that tells Eve that just maybe it's mutual. </p>
<p>"What do you want?" Eve sighs out, her eyes slip shut when she feels Villanelle nuzzling into her neck. Again, it's such a predatory and cat-like gesture, yet Eve wants to chase the feeling Villanelle's proximity leaves in her to the ends of the Earth. She wants to drown herself in it. </p>
<p>Villanelle's chuckle vibrates through both of them and Eve feels like she might actually dissolve into a puddle after all. </p>
<p>"You are still wearing it." Villanelle observes almost gleefully, referring to her namesake perfume that she had gifted Eve after Berlin.</p>
<p>"What do you want, Villanelle?" Eve groans out, impossibly aroused. She needs a resolution to this agonizing tension soon or she may burst. </p>
<p>Villanelle quirks a single eyebrow in amusement when Eve writhes against her ever so slightly, chasing some just out of reach feeling of satisfaction. </p>
<p>"What do you want, Eve?"</p>
<p>I want you, she screams in her mind. Instead...</p>
<p>"I want you not to be a dick right now."</p>
<p>Villanelle tilts her chin up toward the ceiling, pretending to contemplate Eve's demand. </p>
<p>"Hmm...funny word choice."</p>
<p>She doesn't give Eve time to think about whatever that might mean. Before, Eve knows it, those firm but gentle hands around her waist grip savagely and pull them impossibly close. Villanelle is an apex predator and she's got Eve in sight. Eve feels her underwear soak through when Villanelle actually licks her lips. </p>
<p>"Turn around." Villanelle growls out, commanding and confident. She wants all Eve has to give and she's going to take it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I'm Expensive Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>SMUT!</p><p>****Also if anyone would like to be part of a collaborative fanfic effort, reach out to daydreaming_KE on Twitter!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Turn around", Villanelle growls, the sound of it rumbling deliciously through Eve.</p><p>She doesn't wait for an answer, or for compliance. Her hands dig roughly, yet gentle and reverent, into Eve's hips and spin the older woman to face the sink again. </p><p>Eve yelps at the abruptness of it, then moans as she feels Villanelle's breath hot against her ear. Villanelle grinds into her lightly and she stiffens in surprise and trepidation. </p><p>She knows, in whatever part of her brain is capable of rational thought, that she shouldn't be indulging whatever this is. It's reckless, it's dangerous, and it's wrong. Nevermind Niko, but all thought of her husband seems to go flying out the window when Villanelle is there demanding Eve's attention.</p><p>Villanelle's grip loosens on her as she senses the hesitation. There's a momentary softness in her; an appeal for permission. She would take everything Eve had to give, but only as much as Eve allowed it. </p><p>"Tell me no, Eve." Her breath fans out hot and sultry across Eve's neck. Her fingers tighten at Eve's waist again and she's making a point of grinding against Eve's ass gently. And Christ--is she really wearing a strap on to a would-be assassination? </p><p>The audacity of that alone sends a ripple of arousal flooding through Eve to settle deep into the pit of her stomach and sink into a persistent throb in her clit. </p><p>So she grabs a shovel and digs the hole she's standing in even deeper.</p><p>She shouldn't be entertaining this, but fuck it. Villanelle makes her want to be reckless. If she's honest, the assassin has had that effect on her since before they properly met. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. </p><p>Villanelle's eyebrows all but disappear into her hairline in surprise when Eve reaches behind her head and grabs a fistful of blonde hair. She hisses at the feeling when she finds her scalp being tugged at impatiently. The only part of her Eve can grasp at the moment.</p><p>"Are you going to fuck around all night?"</p><p>Villanelle grins devilishly, the ghost of a laugh glides out across the inviting expanse of Eve's neck. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Now there was an operative word! Her hips grind firmly into Eve once more, reminding the older woman that yes, there is a strap on underneath that immaculate black dress and it's not just a trick of imagination. Or perhaps wishful thinking. </p><p>Villanelle sinks her teeth into that glorious neck that is so tantalizingly close. She's allowed a moment to savor the feel, the taste of it in her mouth and against her tongue. And that moment is all she needs to draw a needy moan from Eve's lips. The first of many more if she has her way. </p><p>And she always does. </p><p>But Eve is not ceding control. She yanks Villanelle by the hair again; this time it's sharper, more insistent. </p><p>"Villanelle."</p><p>A warning. An admonishment. </p><p>"Quit screwing around."</p><p>Villanelle is thoughtful for a moment. </p><p>"You should be careful what you ask for, Eve."</p><p>And then there's a quick shifting of clothes. Villanelle's nimble fingers make quick work of Eve's trousers. Eve feels anticipation ripple through her as she hears the faintly metallic clank of the toy jostled against it's harness. </p><p>Then she feels it. Really feels it.</p><p>Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp and she's helpless to keep from slumping into the sink in a way she probably hasn't done since some drunken night in college that she no longer remembers. The groan escapes her before she can help herself and Villanelle takes that as her cue. </p><p>She sets a delicious, agonizing, leisurely pace. </p><p>She's teasing and she knows it. She wants Eve to beg her for more. She wants Eve to need more. </p><p>Jesus Christ, molasses moves faster!</p><p>Eve grunts in frustration and tries to grind herself back onto the toy, only to be held in place by Villanelle's strong hands. She whines pathetically and she hates herself for it. Makes a mental note to punish Villanelle for this later. </p><p>"Fuck me, damn it!" Eve growls, commanding. Villanelle falters a bit at the intensity of it and has to remind herself that she's supposed to be the one calling the shots right now. </p><p>"You didn't say the magic word." Villanelle, gloats, waggling a finger for emphasis as if Eve can see her. </p><p>"Please! You asshole!" Eve is done messing around. Again, Villanelle seems to have underestimated her intensity. She fumbles for only a moment before setting a fast, rough pace. If Eve wanted to be fucked, she would be absolutely, thoroughly fucked until she can't even remember her own name. </p><p>The way Villanelle goes from one extreme to the other in mere seconds gives Eve whiplash and she struggles to catch up with the sensation Villanelle is creating everywhere. Inside her, on her skin, in her mind. </p><p>In her heart. </p><p>But that could wait for another day. Right now they're both focused on this moment between them, and on trying to ignore the way it will be over all too soon. </p><p>The only sounds are the thumping of Eve's body into the kitchen cupboards and the pants and growls and groans and moans and sighs that stretch out into the space between them. </p><p>They both feel the end drawing near. End suddenly, Eve feels something else. Some primal, deep need to be in control again before this is all over. </p><p>She bucks Villanelle away in a manner that's on par with a wild stallion and before Villanelle can process what's happening, she finds herself forced back into the kitchen island untill her back feels the harsh edges of the counter top. </p><p>Her deer in the headlights expression would be endearing if Eve gave enough of a damn about anything other than getting off to focus on it right now. Villanelle's hand automatically finds the leg that hitches around her hips and the other helps connect them again before settling at Eve's hip. Then the pace is resumed. </p><p>They race each other to the finish line like a pair of sprinters in a 500 yard dash. Their breathing mingles as they get closer and closer to sweet release. Eve's hands find purchase against Villanelle's neck and dig in as she shutters to a stop. She leaves crescent marks that Villanelle will be sure to stare at in the mirror for days to come. Villanelle follows a moment after, seeing stars as the toy grinds to a halt right against her clit. </p><p>They stay there for many moments after, basking in the release of tension. In each other, if they were both compelled to be honest. Neither wants to be first to move, first to speak. Not for fear of shattering whatever strange understanding they've come to tonight. </p><p>But as all things do, the moment has to end. </p><p>Eve clears her throat, sliding off of Villanelle and the assassin frowns, watching Eve's retreat back into her shell.</p><p>"There's um... there's a car waiting."</p><p>Villanelle tilts her head, rearranging her dress to impeccable order. </p><p>"Having a car outside waiting while you meet with the assassin you hired to kill you? That's very presumptuous, Eve."</p><p>And just like that Villanelle's facade is back and she's joking. The familiar territory of their relationship dynamic is restored. </p><p>"Like I said. You wouldn't kill me."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I'm Not Jealous</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Episode 2x07 missing sexiness.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So guess who's finally over COVID! Here's a little something to feed you guys until my update on my season 4 fic! That one is coming very soon!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eve is absolutely fuming when she makes her exit from Villanelle's studio apartment and begins a brisk pace down the street. Or maybe that's a nice way to put it. </p><p>She had been composed when that first woman began her awkward morning after walk of shame out of the MI6 sponsored flat. She was downright professional when the second one popped her head out of the bathroom a moment later. </p><p>But jealous?</p><p>"I'm not with them, when I'm with them" burns into her mind over and over again like a broken record. She doesn't know whether to be offended by the accusation (observation) or angry at the way it makes her feel envious to imagine another woman coming undone underneath Villanelle's skilled fingertips. </p><p>She was so very used to imagining herself in that position. In several other positions if she's really being honest. </p><p>Okay. Eve stopped in the middle of the side walk, only a block from Villanelle's apartment.</p><p>Maybe she is jealous. Maybe her interest in Villanelle's sexual prowess is more than just a passing curiosity. It wasn't like anything could (or should) come of it? Right?</p><p>She turns back to look toward the building she had come from as she contemplated, still in sight and standing out from the rest with it's reddish-brown brick and distinct architecture that feels reminiscent of an old manhattan town home.</p><p>Oh, sod it. </p><p>Her feet pull her back. Toward what, she has no idea, but she is intent on showing Villanelle a thing or two. </p><p>She's not jealous. She simply wants to make sure Villanelle stays focused on the task at hand. On her, especially. Wants to scrub any trace of those other women from the assassin's mind and leave her mark. As if the fresh scar that she could imagine just beneath Villanelle's robe isn't a keen enough reminder. </p><p>But she's absolutely, one hundred percent, definitely not jealous. What an absurd notion. </p><p>And the second she stalks back into the flat and sees that infuriatingly smug grin peeking up at her over the top of a second edition philosophy textbook focusing on the likes of Jean Paul Sartre, Voltaire, and Descartes, she pounces. </p><p>"I knew you were jealous." Villanelle seems all too pleased with herself as she's being roughly pushed back into the covers. Eve bites the grin right off of her face in a searing kiss that teeters just over the edge of the line between rough and tender. Villanelle's surprised, but eager, squeak meets her as she fumbles with the tie on that sinfully sexy tiger print robe. </p><p>"I'm not jealous." Eve insists firmly. Villanelle almost laughs at that. Eve made denial into an art form.</p><p>"Tsk. I didn't take you for an unfaithful wife, Eve. What would Niko say?" Eve snarls at that. The urge to hurt Villanelle wars with the urge to fuck her into oblivion; to drive into her until she can't be smug anymore. </p><p>"He left me for a hot bimbo colleague half my age." Villanelle hisses in beautiful pleasure as nails rake roughly over her stomach and the robe is pushed off her shoulders to reveal the smooth, silky skin underneath. </p><p>"But you knew that already didn't you." There's no bitterness then. Villanelle senses that Eve wants to feel bitter about the end of her marriage; wants to blame Villanelle for it. But Eve is not a hypocrite. She knows she has only herself to blame. It's just so easy to be angry with Villanelle. </p><p>"Hey." Villanelle reaches out to stop Eve's hand at her waist band. The tempest in Eve's expression gives way to a sudden clarity, as if she hadn't been fully present for the last few moments. </p><p>"What is this really about, Eve?"</p><p>"You've been wanting to get in my pants for a year and when you finally get the chance you want to talk?"</p><p>"Whatever you think of me...I care."</p><p>Eve scoffs at that and Villanelle can feel the aggression rising in her again. She lays backward onto the mattress and Eve chases her. For a fleeting moment, Villanelle wonders if this anticipatory high she felt building in her was how others felt being fucked by her. But Eve is chasing her back into the mattress, not giving her time to think. </p><p>They kiss again and it's bruising, forceful. A kiss that they'll both likely be feeling for days. She suspects that's Eve's intention and she's proven right a moment later as Eve sinks lower down her body, leaving a trail of possessive little marks along the way. </p><p>Her fingers find Eve's hair, wrapping it around her fingers and tugging sharply. She's not just going to give Eve the reigns of control that easily. </p><p>Brown eyes bore right into her from between her legs. Her chest heaves and she feels almost queasy at the thought of being touched so intimately. No one has touched her since Anna. No one has had their mouth on her since Anna. </p><p>She can see in that pause between them the need Eve has to claim her. To make her forget about anyone else. But not like this. She wants so desperately to let Eve take her, but she knows if it happens right now, it would do terrible damage.</p><p>She pulls at Eve and then flips them so she winds up on top. They're chest to chest, turtle neck against bare breasts. Dilated pupils meet and Eve gives a half-hearted struggle to regain control, ceasing underneath Villanelle's expert lips and tongue. </p><p>"Okay..." She breaths after their kiss breaks "maybe I am jealous."</p><p>Villanelle actually has the gall to laugh. It's an infuriating, smug sound that echoes in the space of the flat and settles down around them. </p><p>"I told you, Eve. I'm not with them, when I'm with them."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Just Let Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just a little alternate take on the earpiece scene from 2x07 😇 part 1 of 2</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are you going to listen all night?"</p><p>Eve's pen stops tapping. The gears inside her mind grind to a screeching halt as she processes what she's just heard. Villanelle only gives her a moment to play catch-up before that sultry voice is back in her ear. </p><p>"Are you having fun in Rome?" She sighs out, aroused and full of desire. She wants Eve to hear what she does to her. Wants her to know exactly what she thinks of when she's working herself to the edge at night. </p><p>If Eve strains, she can actually see Villanelle in her mind's eye, laying under expensive sheets, and sliding her slender fingers past the boundaries of her expensive pajama bottoms.</p><p>"Villanelle, wha-?" Eve's sharp question is cut off as soon as it begins as Villanelle chuckles into her ear. Whatever she was going to say dies as a whimper in her throat as the heat rises in her trousers. </p><p>"Shhhh" Villanelle chides and it's equal parts playful and seductive. "What about your roommate, Eve?"</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Eve lets her eyes travel over her shoulder to spare a brief glance at Hugo's sleeping figure. She had actually forgotten that he was in the room. Still, she has enough of her wits about her to remember the job that she--that they--are supposed to be doing here and fights through her mounting arousal to turn Villanelle's question back on her. </p><p>"What about Aaron?" She needs not elaborate. They've both seen enough to know he probably has every inch of his palazzo under constant surveillance. Even Villanelle's (Billie's) bedroom.</p><p>"He's sleeping like a baby. I made sure of it myself."</p><p>"You drugged Aaron??" Eve all but shrieks and has to check to make sure that Hugo is still sleeping. </p><p>Villanelle's sultry chuckle is back in her ears, burning it's way firmly into her memory where it promises to repeat itself for many nights of self-pleasure to come. .</p><p>"You worry too much, Eve. You should let yourself go once in a while." </p><p>Her tone leaves Eve with the distinct impression that Villanelle is in fact touching herself. The thought hits Eve mercilessly in the clit and her thighs rub together in a futile effort to stifle some of her tension. </p><p>"I can help you." And Eve throbs desperately with that statement. She's so turned on in she could cry, but the last shred of her self-control hasn't given up the fight just yet. </p><p>Then, as if Villanelle can see her; can see the conflict happening inside of her:</p><p>"You'll feel better if you just let go" she sighs and somehow it manages to be the most obscene thing Eve has ever heard. "Just let gooooo."</p><p>"Asshole." Eve sighs, defeated as her traitorous hands dip low into her trousers. </p><p>"Quiet, Eve." Villanelle chides playfully. The way her name falls from Villanelle's lips like a whine has no right to sound so impossibly sexy.</p><p>They fall into an odd sort of silence. One that is pregnant with the knowledge of what they're each doing to each other, and two themselves, from two miles away in separate bedrooms. If Eve tries hard and the microphone isn't a piece of shit with grainy audio quality, she swears she can just make out the sloppy wet sounds of Villanelle getting herself off. </p><p>And oh.</p><p>Oh, to think what those long, graceful fingers could do to her if she ever chose to throw caution to the wind and chase after this attraction between them. </p><p>"What are you doing to me?" Eve wonders, her breath coming out in labored puffs as she considers how life as she knew it has gone topsy-turvy since Villanelle came into the picture. Things that once made sense now seem strange. Things that were foreign concepts are now just the average. </p><p>Eve never would've imagined that she would be sitting in a hotel room in Rome having ear piece sex with the assassin who killed Bill. But now, in the moment, it just seems like another in a chain of events that all build toward something far out on the horizon that she can't see yet. </p><p>Maybe Villanelle can. </p><p>And her question must have been asked out loud because Villanelle is in her ear again; needy, and desperate, and on the edge. A far cry from the usual cocky bravado Eve associates with the assassin.</p><p>"Eve..." She moans out, and Eve whines in commiseration as her hips buck up into her fingers. "If you only knew what you do to me."</p><p>And that proves to be the final straw. Any reservation Eve had about whatever the fuck is going on shatters. </p><p>"Let me hear it." She says darkly. Suddenly the other end of the line goes dead quiet and she can just see Villanelle's shocked expression. </p><p>"Let me hear what I do to you." She commands again. Her voice comes out low and gutteral on a moan. It's the hottest thing Villanelle has ever heard.</p><p>There's silence for a moment and Eve wonders if she's overplayed her hand; wonders if that was too bold too fast. Then, she is reminded that Villanelle is not like the average person. She doesn't shy away where most would be put off. No, she pushes back. </p><p>"I'll do better than that." The line crackles back to life with her voice. She sounds so powerful; so utterly confident. Eve can practically imagine the triumphant smirk already chiseled onto the assassin's perfect features.</p><p>"Why don't you come watch?" The husky, come hither invitation sends a fresh jolt of arousal straight between Eve's legs and she has to push down a moan. She barely remembers that Hugo is asleep just six feet away. </p><p>"W-what about the cameras?" Eve stutters. She briefly entertains the notion of accepting Villanelle's offer before a bout of self-consciousness prevails. And truthfully, maybe a little sense.</p><p>"Not a problem." Eve can hear the arousal dripping from every word and it makes her feel powerful to know that she is the cause.</p><p>"All of the cameras are on a loop."</p><p>And Eve's mind snaps right back to incredulous with that statement. Did she really...?</p><p>"You...planned this?" Eve all but shrieks into the earpiece and Villanelle's breathy chuckle follows. </p><p>"Planned is such a strong word. I just don't like feeling placed under a microscope. Even psychopaths can get too much attention, you know? I'm simply an opportunist. And you are fooling yourself."</p><p>"Oh?" Eve's fingers pause their furious, futile pace inside her panties yet again at that.</p><p>"We both know your fingers won't be enough. So you can either listen to me and put your... colleague...there to good use." She spits the word "colleague" out like it disgusts her. As if Hugo is not even worthy of being mentioned next to Eve in conversation. And something about that turns Eve on impossibly further. Makes her cling to what comes next. </p><p>"Or, you can come to me. Either way, I'm going to enjoy myself." Her voice pitches upward with pleasure at the end and Eve jerks her hand from her pants and strides toward the door.</p><p>Fuck it, she thinks. This can't get more out of hand than it already has. </p><p>"I'm on my way. Don't you dare fucking cum before I get there."</p>
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